My Reality
by Alomoria
Summary: JD has an unlucky encounter in Sacred Heart's parking lot late one evening. In the wake of the tragedy, his true thoughts he's tried to push away surface... JDA- JD/Cox Mentor/Friendship. Rated T for character harm.
1. Chapter 1

A/N-My first _Scrubs_ fic. Yeah, I know I'm kind of late for this particular bandwagon but, I enjoy the show and stories I've read and thought I'd take a crack at it. I may rework this, but anyhoo, if anyone still reads these please let me know what you thought.^^

_It all happened so fast._

It sounds cliché, but most things in real life do nowadays. I guess it just comes from living in a time when everyone assumes everything has been heard, seen or done and that the real challenge now is to reinvent what already exists. But knowing about something is nothing compared to living it—feeling it for yourself. And that's what happened to me.

_Why was I out there?_

Well, I had just gotten off of a double shift and it was nearing two in the morning. It wasn't too busy of a night, which in itself was a rare blessing when you worked in a hospital. And somehow this last shift of mine coincided with most of my friends' shifts too, another rarity for this time of day—or night. Turk and Carla were taking extra shifts to save up for when they have a baby—they were trying like crazy, the eager little bunnies! Elliot, while still going strong with her new fellowship at another hospital, was bound to come in later like she has been the past couple of weeks (that's right Elliot! I know all about your lunch escapades!) Dr. Cox was getting off in another hour—by choice since he told me as I headed for the locker room that he wants a radius clear of my presence when he leaves. The kidder…

I even saw Janitor asleep in the supply closet Elliot and I used to hide in during our first year as I went to find some syringes a couple hours ago. He didn't wake up—thank GOODNESS!—so I just reached around him and got what I needed and then got away as far as possible.

As for me, I decided to plan mine for this time since I'd rather work with friends through a long shift, and plus I was rather lonely since I had moved out of the apartment Turk and I used to share. I hadn't lived alone in a long time, and the past week since I moved out things had begun to get to me. So, I kept myself busy in hopes things would feel better. I only wrote what was on my mind in my diary, then left those pesky sad thoughts there. I suppose nothing had truly happened to me to make feel this way but I guess with all the time on my own gave room to straying thoughts, thoughts about me and what my purpose was now since my life took a wayward turn. Soon after, my ceiling caved in on top of me so there wasn't much for signs of fate to lighten my mood. So I turned to social interaction at work as a pick-me-up (coughescapecough). Though tonight we didn't talk much because of the indecent hour of day, but companionable silence was better than nothing. Or, in my mentor's case, ranting in my face as he stole my drink from my hand and stormed away, growling at _and_ scattering sleepy interns in his wake.

I can't even remember what I had been drinking—was it soda? Water? This was why I needed to go home and sleep—or what my new "home" was now. It currently was a room with a caved-in ceiling from a water leak and a fallen tub. Turk and I were planning to sneak me back into his and Carla's apartment later until I could find a decent place to crash.

It was with these hopeful thoughts I made my way outside, bidding Carla goodbye who responded with a soft "Night Bambi. Drive safe." to which Dr. Cox (he always pops up when you least expect him! Oh how I admire and envy his ninja-like stealth…) responded with a "If you don't, be sure it's not during my shift! I don't want to deal with a whiny little girl crying from a skinned knee after falling off her bicycle because the other kids wouldn't play nice." He didn't even look up from his chart and then ducked into a patient's room. I called after him saying something about Sasha being a manly mode of transportation and that I had a helmet as he very well knew. Carla chuckled despite her obvious exhaustion. I told her to tell Turk bye for me (he was in the on-call room catching a few needed z's) and I left.

I've always loved nighttime. The lampposts are so pretty glowing all over, and the gentle breeze and overall quiet really makes you peaceful inside.

Of course, with unusual hours of the night came unusual encounters. And in the middle of a city this spells out one thing: trouble. And that's what I thought as I felt something jab into my back as I reached Sasha. I spun around, heart pounding in my chest. I was face-to-face with some guy in a ratty jacket and knit cap. He had bloodshot eyes, a tremor in his hand (I noticed because I couldn't stop going back to the gun in his hand—the one he just jabbed me with) with the other arm wrapped around his middle.

"Look, if you need help I can take you inside-" I began, my voice quiet and gentle, a tone I saved when I was at my most serious and concerned, both things I was feeling among a thousand other things at the moment.

"Shut it!" he interrupted me, though looked pretty out of it. "I…I-I just need money…"

I could feel myself pale. "Look, I haven't got any. I don't get paid for another couple weeks and I spent my last bit on renting an apartment—"

"B-But…You're a doctor! Whatever you've got I'll take! Just hand it over—or I'll _make_ you." He looked so desperate and crazed. He was suffering from a major withdrawal…and possibly some kind of infection by the look of his skin and eyes. Of course, I was scared out of my mind but I kept my cool. We're trained with dealing with all kinds of patients….well, in theory.

_My mind flashed to a mini fantasy where Ted was teaching us through poorly drawn examples in crayon of dealing with crazed drug addicts who may mug you on hospital grounds. Dr. Cox is yawning and looking aggravated, standing next to Doug who has pantyhose pulled over his head and waving around a toy water gun. _

_"__And with this re-enactment we will see what could happen if such an event should occur—"Ted garbles on, motioning to Dr. Cox to start the role-play for us to learn from. He takes one look at Doug and growls. Doug whines and runs out the door. _

_"__Aw mannn…that's not how it goes, Perry…" Ted whined, earning a glare from Dr. Cox. Ted sighs and tells us that in any case, the hospital isn't liable for accidents or murders that happen outside their walls and that we can't sue._

"Dr. Cox would even be a better victim than me…" I mutter snapping out of my happy place. I must be tired if I'm nodding off to dream-land while a gun is pointed at me.

"W-what? Man, just give me the money!" My Robber yelled, in a hoarse voice.

"I can't man, a-all I've got is like, fifteen cents." I reached in my scrubs pocket and pulled it out, a few pennies and maybe a nickel dropped and tinkled on the asphalt. I glanced to the doors of Sacred Heart, hoping someone would be running to my rescue any moment now—but no one was even near them. I squinted for a second and saw Carla was on the phone and shuffling some charts. No one could see me directly anyway, I had parked my scooter near Dr. Cox's Porsche and that was nearly out of sight of the doors to begin with.

I was snapped out of my thoughts that spanned a couple seconds (crazy I know, the mind is full of wonders!) as my robber guy let out a strangled dry sob, hitching the gun upward a bit and he pressed his other fist into his forehead as if he had a headache. He probably did, I know I do.

"I…c-can't believe this….I…I n-n-_needed _this…and you ruined it!" He yelled, but with his raspy voice it wasn't too powerful. Though, it just helped the frightened bubbling in my middle take life as now I had no idea what to do and only knew whatever it was, he was blaming me.

He suddenly stopped shaking and a wild look come over him. I backed up a step but there was nothing I could do. Hatred in his eyes and agony like a trapped animal, he aimed his gun at my chest and while I jolted back to get away, he had already fired.

The sound echoed all around the near vacant parking lot. Adrenaline was flowing through my body and I was wide-eyed, focusing on Robber Guy as he fled the scene. I stumbled back another step, still standing, not believing my luck that he had missed. He was like, three feet away!

_And that's when I felt it._

I felt a wave of numbness in my upper chest and it reached my legs, which now were buckling. And then I knew. I knew he hadn't missed and I, in fact, had been shot. I couldn't bring myself to look down and assess the damage, all I could think was why I didn't feel it. My thoughts began to break down at this point and things began to slow down. It was like those Matrix movies or those sports shows Dr. Cox watches sometimes, where things slow down to emphasize the details apart from real-time. And right now, I felt like I had all the time in the world and yet only seconds of consciousness left. It was weird, yet made sense.

I then felt something warm trickling down and in a thrill of fright I thought I had had an accident. Boy, would that make Dr. Cox's day. He'd _never_ let me live that down—robbed like the damsel in distress I was then wetting myself and fainting because I'm such a dainty pansy like that. It was with relief that I finally looked down and saw it was instead just scarlet spreading across my blue scrubs top. For some reason this didn't scare me like I thought it would. Maybe since it was preferable to Dr. Cox's possible humiliating rant. Maybe I'd get a scar? Chicks dig scars.

But part of me knew I couldn't hope to live from this, though I couldn't remember why. I vaguely assessed blood loss was affecting my conscious rational thought.

Someone called out my name. I looked up from gazing at the red splattered across my hands (and staining my id badge—if Kelso makes me replace it out of my salary I'll just keep it as is). Wow. Everything was blurry. Things looked pretty this way though, with lights and shapes and colors all blending together to make some vague form. Like an…impressionist painting, right? That's the term I think. Look at me being all artsy.

I hear my name called out again. Both times it sounded so low and slow to my ears, like when me and Turk have our slo-mo races. But Turk wasn't here, and I'd probably never see him again. Or his wife Carla, who would be the most amazing mother…she sure is to me. Or Elliot, who I never got to sort things out feelings-wise with but I knew I would always love her somehow. Or Dr. Cox, who probably would never know how much he helped me be who I am today.

I felt my eyes tear up, which somehow helped me see clearer. Someone was shouting my name again, over and over, and running towards me, but the voice was slow too. I tried to meet them but my legs finally gave out (and I was feeling light headed from loss of blood) and so I fell onto my knees (it hurt! _Oh_, so I can feel my kneecaps-to-pavement impact but not the impact of a bullet? And why am I complaining?) I then didn't have the strength to hold myself up and I fell the rest of the way backward, right as the person calling me reached my side. Things were finally dark though my eyes were wide open, and I felt my heart break as I finally understood what it felt to be alone, to die with regret. I allowed myself to voice (in my head anyway) my deepest fears I'd been suppressing for months now, as I lay there with the life-clock ticking against me.

I finally recognized the voice to belong to my ment—no, my _boss_, Dr. Cox. Because he never wanted to be my mentor, my father figure, my friend…my anything. I sorta' pushed him into all of that. And now, I had to burden him with being with me in my last moments, something he didn't need. He cared too much about his patients and hated the "deep conversations". I was making him face both—my mortality and his last words to me. I wanted him to know it was okay. I knew I'd never replace Ben. I knew I'd never reach the trust and friendship he once held for Petey—his true protégé. And I knew that even if he trusted me as a person and doctor, he'd always be annoyed by my very presence. It was my fault, I knew. Turk warned me not to bother with him, Carla told me he was always like that, Elliot cried a lot…but I wouldn't listen. I latched onto him because he's…well, he's Dr. Cox. And I never took the obvious hints, I stayed right by his side. But he never needed me; I had always needed him. It was with this thought I felt a tear escape my eye and slide down my face and my vision returned slightly to see Dr. Cox shouting over his shoulder and EMTs running over with a gurney. They needn't bother, I was long gone. It took all I had to grab Dr. Cox's hand, which turned out to be a light nudge if anything. He turned back to me, a stressed look in his own eyes. Wow, they're crystal blue when he's upset—that's weird, I've seen him upset hundreds of times and they were never this clear and bright. Something's different now. I've never seen him look quite like this. Huh.

"Newbie, stay with me!"

I can hear him clearly now. I'm glad because everything was so muffled before.

"Newbie, no! JD! STAY WITH ME!"

My eyes fluttered open—I didn't realize they were closing. Dr. Cox using my real name was cool, as it hardly ever happens. He's grasping my hand now, like a full on hand shake, but not the letting go part. It was no hug but it'll do before I drift away….

Next thing I knew I see lights scrolling past my vision, people yelling orders and stats, and I feel much cooler than I last remembered. Cooler as in freezing; wow, why do we keep it so cold in here? There's a reason, I know it…ugh, it's gone. I can't form coherent thought as well as I could. Time has sped up since I was shot. Things are moving on regular time now and it takes all I have to keep up. I notice Dr. Cox is still by my side, running with the gurney I'm strapped in, his warm hand holding onto my wrist. My blood stains are all over his front and hands, speckling his pure white coat in droplets of vibrant red. I catch his eye and he stops mid yell to address me.

"Newbie, I need you to stay awake or you'll go into shock, okay? Can you do that kid?" his voice his wavering, probably due to his impromptu jogging. I hear Carla on my other side shout for someone to clear the hallway of some leftover food cart. I hear a deep voice respond in quick authority that he'll get it done, and we soon pass swiftly. I catch a glimpse of Janitor as we pass, his eyes on me with…worry? I wanted to say thanks for clearing the hallway for lil' ol' me…

"Newbie? JD?! C'mon, we're almost there!" Dr. Cox looked almost frantic. We make it to the surgical room, and I remember somehow that Turk in on call tonight. I won't last in time to tell him goodbye, I know it.

"Get him in here!" Dr. Cox yelled in response to something someone said. Probably how Turk isn't here yet. Give him a break, he was probably sound asleep five seconds ago! He doesn't know it's me. That's gonna' be a shock. They shouldn't make him do this. If I die—when I die—he'll blame himself.

Dr. Cox looks at me again and he removes the oxygen mask as Carla helps some interns prep me, though I hear her choke on a sob.

My eyes are welling up again—darn you tear ducts betraying my feelings!—and all I can manage to say is,

"I-I'm sorry."

I heard my own heart monitor flat line before darkness overtook me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N—Gonna take a moment to answer the reviews I got.:)

KHwhitelion—Ahhh! My scrubs buddy/) (What shall we call that? Scruddy? Ha!) So happy you liked the first chapter.^^ I hope this next one doesn't disappoint too

Cindylee99—I intended to continue this, no worries.:) And yes, other point of views are to come!

Duskanike5—aw wow, thank you!3 I relate to JD the most (I'm more day dreams than angst though lol) so it was easier to channel that into the fic./) Now Dr. Cox is a diff story…as you'll read here. *sigh* hope I didn't botch it up too bad.

HeadInTheClouds130—Ah, thanks!:D Same here, I got into Scrubs last summer. I grew up watching bits of it, but finally sat down and watched it to cheer myself up after some stuff went down at college. It helped loads and always cheers me up now. So happy I'm not the only one late to this party haha!

NotLoggedOn—I feel ya mate. If you happen back to this fic, you won't need to pretend yes? ^_^

* * *

Five hours.

It's been _five hours_ since Newbie crashed. _Twice_.

I've been sitting here since he got wheeled back into the ICU. I've been sitting outside in this tiny waiting area in this tiny plastic chair with a-_hap_-so_-lute_ly no armrests. I haven't stood up in all this time, not even to go trash another office like I usually do when I…get this way. I can't bear to leave this spot. It's like when I watch the Detroit Red Wings, and they're finally pulling through the game, and I just _know_ they'll lose if I move an inch, if I stop my "let's win this!" vibe for even a second. Or like Gandhi, who I heard (because Carla feels the need to fill me in on info I re-_heel_-ly couldn't care less about) has a lucky 'do-rag' when he does surgery and ju-_hust_ knows the odds are in his favor by having the stupid thing on.

My back is killing me and my legs are stiff and my shift was over _hours_ ago. I check my watch—just great. My next shift starts in the next couple hours. Well, it's not like I'm eager to go home to She-Zilla and our spawn in the current mood I'm in.

So I don't move. I just stare at the floor, leaning on my knees and willing my hands to stop shaking. I can't really connect why my hands are shaking (not_ trembling_!) He's there, just a few feet away, in that room. The observation window is right in front of me, and I've rarely taken my eyes off of it. I don't even know why I'm here—it's not like I can help him by sitting out here. The kid would probably want me sitting _in_ there, beside him, but I can't do that. I can't trust myself, thinking of what almost happened tonight. I'm just waiting for something or someone to push me that next inch over the edge so I can release everything I've suppressed over the past agonizing long hours. Anger is how I deal with things, and I know that's not what Clarissa in there needs. It's like the time I punched him in the face after his dad died. Sure, I sorta' came through for him in the end, but I kinda' _had_ to seeing on how his only other support was his older brother Dan, who at the time was soaking in a tub of _questionable_ substance after being there so long until I forced him out of there. So, in all honesty, what kind of person am I to comfort Miss Sally Sunshine in there? That was always his job, not mine.

Why does he always want me to? Why is he doing this to me? To his friends? Why did he have to be shot in some random mugging? What are the odds, right outside this dump we label a hospital?

_Stupid kid._ I should _nawt_ care like this!

I rub my face with a hand for the billionth time, hoping to keep sleep at bay for another hour or so. I then link my hands behind my head and just stare at Newbie in that small dark room, his monitors being the only thing keeping a steady glow on him. I stare until I see his chest heave up and down with his breath, slowly but surely. I let out my own breath I hadn't realized I'd held. My hands drop back to my knees, but my eyes stay locked on him.

Watching him in there, I can't help but think. I _want_ to think y'know, but about anything other than how frail he looks. My Newbie may be a sensitive girly girl (Wait. Did I just refer to him as _mine_?..._Nah_), but he's tough as nails when it counts (not that I'd ever EVER ever say that one outloud). And seeing him there makes me feel things (ugh, "feel") I've tried to forget since Ben's death. So I thought of moments that never truly mattered before now.

The countless times he trailed behind me, alert to my whistles and withstanding of my rants. Him always picking up on my moods and the reasons behind them and trying to help. It was annoying, but it was more than anyone else had ever done for me. As I thought about it, I figured I spent most of my time with him at this blasted hospital despite claiming to avoid him at every possible moment. But I trusted him, and that was big for someone like me. I'd seen countless air-headed interns come and go through these halls over the years I'd been here, and not one had the heart he had. After all this time, he climbed the career ladder only when it was right to do so, played the "game" when he was sure he could do more good in this place because of it. And above all, for some reason even I didn't understand, Newbie thought I was the greatest thing since the discovery of penicillin.

Stupid misguided kid.

I heard rushing steps and I blearily looked away from Sandra's room to whoever dared break the silence of the hallway at this unholy hour of the morning.

Gandhi.

Carla was right on his heels, and before I could run away they cornered me at the chair. Well, Carla did. Gandhi pressed up against the window of Newbie's room, eyes for only him. He seemed scared just to go in there, like disturbing anything could make the kid's heart fail—again.

I knew how he felt.

"Perry, what-? Have you been sitting here all this time?" Carla asked me, eyes widening with shock I didn't understand. Am I that much of a jerk that it's impossible to believe I'd sit here waiting for Leah there to stabilize? (Because if so my efforts have not gone in vain…but still…) Carla wasn't looking into my eyes though (she and Newbie were about the only people in this place who dared to). I felt my brow crinkle and I can definitely feel the exhaustion setting in as I haven't had enough strength left to start on a rant. And boy did I want to, it was my fail safe—my defense mechanism.

Gandhi unglued his face from the window, but left a hand on there as he turned to look at me. Like a lifeline to his boyfriend Candy in there. But I guess he sensed the tone of worry in his wife's voice that I hadn't registered in my haze of confusion and sleep deprivation. His eyes shot out of his head it seemed as they trailed all over me below the shoulders. What in the-?

Before I could ask what in the world Baldy was finding so fascinating about my physique the scalpel jockey gasped, covered his mouth and shot down the hall and into the bathroom.

"What's the matter with him?" I rasped out as I gazed down the hall where he ran, not recognizing my own voice. Ugh, I sounded worse than Bobbo after yelling at interns for a whole hour. Carla's eyes softened, not a good sign when it's directed at me.

"Y-your coat….and scrubs…." Carla sounded awfully tearful. I looked back at her. _My clothes?_ _What about them?_ I wondered. She was gesturing back to where Gandhi was staring and I looked down and all I saw was _red_.

_Red everywhere._

I shot up from my seat, my legs numb but I didn't care at the moment. I didn't…I didn't realize I still had these all on…and how much…how _much_ he _bled_ on me.

_I had Newbie's blood all over me._

I wrenched the coat off in a wild panic and threw it to the floor. I was breathing in haggard breaths and clutched my hair, delirious and in shock. His blood was vibrant and red as rubies, and stood starkly against my bleached white lab coat. Speckles of blood danced all about it like stars in the sky. Carla choked on a sob and picked it up, tears falling down her cheeks.

"I…I didn't know…" I managed to explain. She nodded, somehow understanding.

"I'll take that." Said a new voice, deep and sorrowful which somewhere in my mind was familiar. We turned and saw Janitor standing there, left hand thrust into a pocket and right hand extended for the coat.

"Wha—why would you _want_ it?!" It took me all of two seconds to come to a conclusion. "You _sick_ sonava-!" I finally found it, my release. I lunged for him but Carla jumped in front of me, cutting me off. Lurch didn't have the decency to look guilty or frightened. He just stood there looking blank.

"Stop it Perry! He's trying to help!" Carla shouted.

"He wants a _souvenir_!" I yelled, trying to get around her. "Don't think I don't know how you pick on Newbie! I never stopped it because he never got hurt! But I never thought you'd stoop to—" I ranted hoarsely but Janitor finally spoke up.

"I want to _clean_ it, Doc." He replied as casually as I ever heard him.

I blinked. Carla sighed.

"It's the least I can do…for Scooter." He continued, quieter and shifting his footing. His head was down and shoulders hunched. Carla bundled up my coat and gave it to Janitor and patted his arm in comfort and he left swiftly, finding purpose in his new mission.

Carla turned back to me wearily. "Are you done?"

I grumbled, rubbing my eyes with more force than needed, but the twinge of pain helped me focus on something other than Newbie across the way…his blood still all over my scrubs top…

"Well, I need to go to JD's apartment to pick up some of his stuff since he'll be waking up soon. I'd like it if you came and helped me."

I looked down at her, and I didn't even want to say no this time. Anything to distract myself.

"You can get changed there, since his apartment is closer than ours or yours." She was already walking away and I found myself following her…like Newbie once followed me.

I need to stop thinking things like that. What am I, _a four year old girl_?

"What about Newbie's Gemini twin?" I found myself asking tiredly, curious how he was handling this. Not so good by the looks of it.

"He wanted to stay and take over watching Bambi." Carla replied and my brow furrowed. Taking over implied I had been currently 'watching over Bambi', which was SO nawt true.

"I wasn't—"

"Don't give me that crap right now, okay? You were."

"But-!"

"Why can't you admit you care about him? Huh? After all this time, after _this_!" She gestured wildly about us as we cleared the doors of the hospital front. I glared around, trying to ignore her and looking to see if whoever shot Newbie was still around so I could kill him with my bare hands.

"Are you even listening?" I heard Carla say to me as we got into her car.

"No." I simply replied, and slipped down into the seat to catch a few Z's in the few minutes it took to get to Newbie's apartment. I hadn't been to it yet, not even Carla or Blondie. But Gandhi had apparently given thorough instructions so off we went.

I was just eager to get my Newbie-blood soaked clothes off of me and burned at the nearest convenience. My hands continued to shake slightly, in anticipation I told myself.

* * *

The first time I woke up I saw bright lights all around me. For a split second a thrill of fear pierced my tummy as I thought I had finally been abducted by aliens and that everything on _X-Files_ was true. Darn you Scully, the truth _was_ out there!

But then I heard Dr. Cox's voice. And that wasn't right _at all_ because of all people to have a fighting chance against aliens, it would without a doubt be him. I tried asking him what was going on but then I heard a horrible gurgling and realized that it was me making that sound. I gasped but then felt a firm hand on my arm gripping me tightly, as if I'd slip away into nothingness. At least, I felt like I would.

_"__JD…d-don't you do that again, alright?"_ said a voice that sounded like Dr. Cox, but he _never_ called me by name. And never stuttered.

And don't do what?

_"__Gave me a scare there, kid."_

What?

I apparently voiced this as a gurgle and the hand tightened a bit, helping me feel relaxed. I'm a sensie after all, and I'll admit physical touch always helps me.

_"__Don't talk, Newb. You'll be fine. I've got ya."_

I then decided this was just a very weird but very nice dream. But the lights abruptly winked out of my vision and I blacked out, a sharp pain around my heart before nothingness. Echoes of Dr. Cox swearing and in a panic I had never heard from him before. But I had drifted away once I registered that.

The second time I woke up, I was sure I was alone.

But then I heard murmurs of a voice. It annoyed me because I wanted to keep sleeping; I was having this really awesome dream where I was a ninja and Dr. Cox was James Bond. As my mind surfaced from sleep faster and faster, my dream slipped away and a steady pain replaced the comforts of unconsciousness. I tried to move but I felt several things attached to me making it hard to so I gave up on that. I was confused why I hurt so bad. Why there was something in my mouth pushing air into my lungs. I was too weak and tired to care. It took me a while to open my eyes but as I did I found myself laying in a hospital bed, in ICU if the wallpaper was any clue. I blinked rapidly as the whole incident with Mr. Robber came back to me full force and my newfound grief and depression with it. Great, now I was useless as a doctor too. Dr. Cox was going to tear me a new one once he found out.

I heard a sudden rushed stomping and it faded away down the hall and I instinctively turned to see Dr. Cox out there through the window. I gained more coherence at the sight of him, but not much. I must be on heavy meds to not be shivering in fear at the soon-to-be Rant Heard 'Round the World. But he never came in, he just stared down the hall. Carla was there too. Then he looked down at himself as Carla said something and I squinted to see him covered in someone's blood. That was definitely a weird sight. Man, he'll be even crankier now after staying over-shift for whoever caused that much blood to splatter on him. Poor guy probably didn't make it by the amount there on the scrubs front and coat.

I started to fade away again to sweet patterns of REM when I jolted a bit from a sudden shout,

_"__Stop it Perry! He's trying to help!"_

And Dr. Cox lunging for someone I couldn't see as the window is only so big.

_ "__He wants a __souvenir__!"_ Cox yelled. _"Don't think I don't know how you pick on Newbie!"_ Oh whoa what? How'd I get involved? Who is he talking to? I felt like I should know, but it took too much effort to try and figure it out.

_"__I never stopped it because he never got hurt! But I never thought you'd stoop to—" _Someone cut him off there.

_"__I want to __clean__ it, Doc."_

This was a bit too surreal for ol' Gizmo here (I WILL make that nickname happen!) and my body decided thinking was too much to handle so I conked out then and there.

I was happy to forget anything and everything and let sleep take me away.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Waaa-zhuh_? 'Lo?"

"Hey, D-Dan? It's Turk."

Pause. Rustling against the receiver. "Turk? …Chris? Man, wha…timezzit?" He was one of the few people who called me by my first name and it felt weird to hear it. Dr. Cox calling me _Gandhi_ sounded more natural for some reason. Wow, I need to get it together, my thoughts are rambling…

"Uh, like almost eight in the morning dude." I cannot believe I sound so calm. Though it's probably from exhaustion and my current crash from my earlier adrenaline high. But I'm in no hurry to get to what I have to say or how to say it so patience comes easily.

Besides. I need Dan at least half awake to register this conversation.

"Tha' early? It's pract'ly a sin…" I hear Dan groan in a huff.

"Yeah…yeah I dunno…I guess…" I didn't know what else to say and my mind went blank.

Another pause. "There a point to calling me Chris or didja' just wanna say goo'mornin'?" Dan sighed a yawn as he said that and I felt my throat constrict.

"Did Johnny put you up to this?" I could tell Dan was more awake now. But at the mention of JD I almost dropped my phone and ran into the bathroom again.

"N-no…listen Dan…" I tried weakly.

"Chris, I _swear_ if that little turd-nugget made you wake me up—"

"Shut UP and listen, Dan!" I exploded in a yell, though it came out super hoarse and not nearly as scary as when me and my V-Bear practiced during Halloween.

_V-Bear_…

"I…I'm calling because…Dan…JD was shot—"

"WHAT?!" I had to yank the phone away from the shriek.

"Hold it D—"

"_NO_, **WHAT**? WHAT DO YOU MEAN JOHNNY GOT **_SHOT_**?!"

"Exactly what I said dumba—"

"IS HE OKAY?!"

"SHUT _UP _SO I CAN EXPLAIN!"

And I did. As best I could in the shortest way possible. Dan was now on his way here, but probably wouldn't make it until noon at best. If—when—JD woke up, it'd be good for him to see some family…

Though in my opinion Sacred Heart was more family to him than anyone else, Dan included. But I still called him, he had a right to know. And my V-Bear would be upset I hadn't told him something had happened.

As I sat beside him, conked out in his hospital bed, IV tubes and other wires stuck all in him, I sighed with a heaviness I hadn't really ever felt before. I scooted my chair up to the side of the bed, rested my elbows on the mattress near JD's wrist…

And I began to pray.

* * *

I didn't think Bambi could keep a thing like this a secret, but he did. He had moved in here, what? Almost a full couple of weeks really. As Perry and I opened the door to the apartment (Bambi had given Turk a key in case of an emergency…) all I could do was gasp in shock. I even heard Perry take a sharp breath.

The ceiling had given way, and water dripped from exposed broken pipes and plumbing. A tub lay smack dab in the middle of what we assumed was supposed to be the living room.

Perry swore. "What does that _idiot_ think he's trying to prove, living in this dump? He could have contracted pneumonia or tetanus!" he ranted, shoving past me in the doorway and into the cold, damp living space.

"I don't know…Turk told me before we left that he had been trying to sneak Bambi back at our place…I guess this was why…" I trailed off, stepping around a piece of ruble.

"Stupid idiot is what he is." Perry growled in a murmur, hands on his hips and looking up through the hole into the next apartment above. It was empty too.

"Perry, let's just get JD's stuff and get out of here." I said quietly, my use of Bambi's name snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was currently entertaining. We moved deftly into the back room past the kitchenette. It was the only place remotely livable we found, but pretty bare aside from a small bed and dresser, and it was in need of a good sweeping. It looked like water had flowed a bit into this part of the apartment as well by the look of the water stains on the linoleum.

"Does he not know how to do laundry?" Perry gruffed angrily. I had no idea where this attitude was coming from, but I had a mission and so I ignored his grumblings and sifted through the piles on the bed. Poor Bambi, he was never this disorganized. He must've left in a hurry when he was last here.

I found an overlarge sweatshirt and those scrubs pants Bambi had gotten to match Perry that one time. I whistled and threw them to the Angry Doctor before finding a duffle bag and stuffing it with clothing.

* * *

I went into the bathroom to change, not in the mood to flaunt myself in front of Carla. Once inside and closing the door, I turned and noticed a single picture on Newbie's mirror. It was of him and Turtle Head, on either side of some guy I didn't recognize. I normally wouldn't care but…for some ridiculous reason I wanted to know who this was. The picture wasn't that old in my opinion. And Mystery Dork in the middle had on a white doctor's coat over a dark shirt and tan khakis.

I wracked my brain for names and stupid stories Newbie would prattle on and on and on _and on_ about during our rounds together—and while I didn't recall much because I _of course_ tune him out—Newbie had, to my knowledge, never spoken of someone even resembling this man. And in the picture, the three seemed thick as thieves.

I growled and practically ripped off my blood stained shirt (_my Newbie's blood!_) and pants, and pulled on my borrowed clothes from the nerd. I looked into the mirror now (carefully avoiding the photo of their annoyingly cheerful faces) and saw myself for the first time in hours. I looked haggard. And not in the nice rugged way; I looked like one of those addicts on the subway. My eyes were bloodshot, but I hadn't been crying…

I can't remember much during those times JD's heart stopped though.

I jerked my head away and stuffed my clothes in the waste basket as I walked back out the door. Carla was holding some book and running a hand over the cover.

"What's that?" I asked, though I sounded more annoyed than I wanted. She didn't seem to notice.

"I found it under a pillow. It's Bambi's journal." She said with a watery smile.

"How do you know?" Again, I had some weird curiosity over all things Newbie. I may need to visit my shrink again if this keeps up.

"It has a unicorn on it."

"Oh yeah…his_ diary_. He told me about that stupid thing once. Said it protected his dreams or some girly crap like that." I rolled my eyes and started looking for anything else that might be useful to the kid, in a spurt of _uncharacteristic kindness _on my part you understand.

Carla gave me a hard look.

"What?"

"Why do you always have to belittle everything Bambi likes?"

"Why is _Bambi_ such a girl?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop being such an egotistical jerk!"

This made me pause for a second and glare at the little Latina nurse.

"It's who I am, thanks for noticing."

Carla just threw the duffel bag she was packing at me and slammed the diary on the bed. It flipped open to a page and since I was bored (_nawt_ curious) I peered over to it while Carla's back was turned to grab his comb and I stilled at what I saw written there.

_Dr. Cox, My Hero._

I blinked to make sure I saw right, as I had been awake for about fourteen hours, and concluded I had seen right. I wasn't…y'know…_surprised_ or anything. Stupid kid followed me around like some puppy I had been foolish enough to feed a scrap or two. But that was honestly all I did give the kid, was a scrap of a compliment here and there every six months and maybe a shoulder pat that _one_ time…

And he thinks I'm his hero…?

_Stupid_ kid.

But now allofa'sudden I felt an urgency deep in my chest to go back and see how he was doing. I grabbed the ridiculous diary, _unicorn and all_, and stuffed the bag with it. I don't know _why_ I did, I just did it. Then I grabbed the other things Carla had pulled out and stuffed them in the old bag too. It's not like I was anxious to go back to that den of illness and failed bureaucracy, but thinking about Newbie, in that room…what if an intern fouled up a simple IV? Or Bob kicked him out in favor of a hypochondriac board member? Or my She-Zilla of an ex-wife smothered him in his sleep with her bat-wings?

Well, that last one was _kinda_' far-fetched. She enjoyed him _torturing_ _me_ with his daily presence too much to kill him. Besides, she was still asleep in her cave about this time.

I had let myself go numb over the whole ordeal surrounding Sandra Dee in ICU, but now I think the exhaustion was allowing me to feel again. Maybe even imagine I cared about the _runt_. But I **didn't**. I was just concerned over the fact that my relatively clean track-record might be blotched if he got worse. I definitely did na-hu_-hawt_ worry about Newb-the-boob. Wasn't that obvious?

Don't answer that.

* * *

"What..? Hey, _slow down_! Where's the fire?" I asked the raging curly-top before me. He was stuffing all he could in the bag that I had sorted on the bed and making his way out of the apartment. Toiletries I had just grabbed (I knew my Bambi would want his 'unisex' hair gel) in hand, I ran after him, barely having time to lock the door. I almost slipped in a puddle, too!

"Something could happen while I'm—I mean, while _we're_ gone. We should be getting back." Perry said, going down the stairs instead of the elevator.

I don't know what made him say that of all things. But I didn't have the time nor the will to jab into him about his self-proclaimed non-existent feelings. He was already in the car—the driver's seat this time, _ugh_—and like a bullet we shot out and into the highway towards the hospital.

I clutched the duffel bag, willing myself to stop thinking about bullets, blood and hurt Bambis.

* * *

"What is going on around here?"

It was nine in the morning at Sacred Heart, and Bob Kelso had just come in for his shift. The usual crop were there waiting in the lobby; the hobo, a kid who swallowed something and would easily pass it rather than come here, a pregnant woman and her near-fainting husband and a few other stragglers Kelso had no interest in even seeing.

They didn't look rich, important or related to a board member. If you didn't meet that criteria, then it was three-strikes and you're out with him. They didn't call him Beezlebob for nothing.

Well, that was just Perry Cox, but same difference.

-Down the hall, Ted raced to get to Kelso, but tripped on the water Janitor was mopping with and slid into a patient's room-

What irked the old doctor was the fact that everyone was so glum. And the fact that the Janitor was actually doing work than plotting some scheme. Make no mistake, Bob Kelso reveled in the disgruntlement and sadness of others. But only when he caused it.

-Ted was punched out by the patient's husband ("And STAY OUT! You perv!") and continued his trek to Kelso when he was blocked by interns on rounds-

He went up to the counter of the nurse's station and slammed the top with his hand until Laverne slowly turned to give him a look.

"Can I help you?" She asked in a way that booked no argument how she felt about helping _him_ of all people.

"Yes, thank you, Linda," Kelso said, tone clear he wasn't thankful and a smile that was obviously fake.

"It's _Lavern_." The old but still sassy nurse interrupted with pursed lips and a narrowed eye.

"Whatever!" Kelsp hissed, smile gone and angry scowl in place of it. "What in the name of Sam Hill is wrong with everyone here?"

-Ted finally squirmed his way through, avoiding confrontation as best as he could as usual, and tripped again, falling flat on his face and just short of the counter-

An intern, one of JD's, slunk to the counter, grabbed a silver tin file, and slunk away, sniffling. He stepped over the groaning body of Ted.

"See what I mean?" then a thought came to him, and he growled. "Perry didn't rip into the entire staff again did he?_ Confoundit_, I told the man to sheath in his claws, I can't have a bunch of weeping interns cluttering the halls! If they can't do their jobs, then _I _have to deal with it!" He raged.

Lavern looked like she was seriously holding herself back from slapping him across the face. But she was a good Christian woman and restrained.

"Lord help me Jesus, for he knows not what he says." She murmured to herself, staring him down.

"Quit blathering and answer me, woman!" Kelso yelled.

"Did you check your messages?" Lavern asked, putting a hand on her hip. Kelso didn't notice the small tremor in her voice, nor the redness of her eyes.

"No, of course not. I go home to _stay_, not be on call." Kelso grouched.

Just then, the Todd came through, twisting his scrubs front absently and stuttering a bit as he spoke to a police officer.

"I-I dunno, officer…see uh, I wasn't on duty…" Todd said, the blank dumb look he always wore testifying the truth of his story more than his words. The officer just nodded. It was surreal seeing Todd this worried and uncertain. He didn't even ask for a "talkin-to-a-cop-high-five!"

"It's alright. Just take me to uh..who did you say? Dr. Turk, that was it."

"Sure, r-right away. He's with JD still." And they passed, continuing the path to ICU.

"Why's a _cop_ here?!" Kelso was about to bust a nerve.

A hand took grip on the counter, the other grabbing hold a second after. Ted pushed himself up and gasped, "I've been trying to reach you, sir. Dr. Dorian…*wheeze*…was s-shot this morning." Ted seemed content to relay this message while half-slumped on the counter and still on his knees.

"_What_?" Kelso's eyes were angry _and_ wide now. Ted whimpered in fright.

Just then, Elliot burst through the doors, wailing incoherently. Her hair was tangled, her white lab coat thrown on top of her PJs and her mascara running black mingling with her tears. Lavern swore, looked up and muttered an apology to Jesus, and then went over to her and guided her to the cafeteria, shushing her and rubbing her arm, trying to calm her down.

Kelso turned to Ted.

"What did you just say?" He hissed, eyes flashing.

"I…uh…D-Dr. Dorian..was s-shot…" Ted now looked really sad about what he was saying now that he could catch a breather.

"What do you mean 'he was shot'?"

"Last night—er, early this morning I guess—Dr. Dorian was coming off his shift when next thing anybody knew, a shot was heard and then Dr. Cox was rushing him in on a gurney. He's in critical care right now, b-but stable…"

Kelso swore, thinking of the legal implications and trying to stave off that tiny, microscopic part of him that still cared about his patients.

Especially now that one of his own had just made that list.

* * *

A/N: How will Dan react when he arrives? How will JD feel when he wakes up? Who is Mystery Dork? These and four other meaningless questions will be answered here next time on _As the Stomach Turns_~

...

haha jk jk. Gotta love Carol Burnett. Anyway, you guys wanted an update, so here ya go.:')


End file.
